His Guardian Angel
by inkpaperlove
Summary: Harry wakes up from a coma with no memory of his past. His new angel must do everything she can to win him back. FULL SUMMARY INSIDE
1. Potter's Pub

***AN: I came across the inspiration for this fic in…the shower. I think it's going to be a short one but I haven't written Harry/Ginny in a while and I've been kind of depressed lately so if the fic turns out to be really sad…then my apologies. Anyway! Please rate/ review!***

****Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling. (I wish I were though)****

*****Full Summary: (Taking place 7 years after the war) After an unknown curse hits Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived falls into a deep coma. When he wakes up, he has no memory of his past. He takes on the name Harry Harold and begins his life as a muggle. As 3 long years go by, Harry finds himself more and more attracted to a mysteriously familiar waitress at his favorite bar. She addresses herself as "Angel". How far will his new angel go to bring his memory back? Or will her attempts send his fragile life shattering back to nothing?*****

_**Harry**_

Harry stood between the aisles of the local general store, restocking bars of fragrant bars of soap. After neatly stacking them 5 boxes high, he stood back to admire the handiwork. _The shelf looks too crowded_. Swiftly, he took all the boxes back off the shelf and began to stack them so that they were only 4 high with slight gaps in between.

"See Harold?" Mr. Franklin, the crotchety old manager, lumbered up behind Harry, "Soaps. Just can't keep them on the shelves. Didn't I say they would be a hit?"

"Yes sir," Harry replied politely, his head already beginning to ache from the conversation. _Just leave me alone. I need some quiet. And the shelf is too crowded. _

"They're all the rage in France."

"Uh-huh," Harry once again took the boxes from the shelf, his head splitting from the effort. _Go away. Three boxes high. That'll work. _

"Have you ever been to France?" Harry was saved by the tinkling of the bell by the door, Mr. Franklin left to go attend to a customer. The head ache subsided and Harry managed to finish restocking. _It's 5:30, time to go. _

"Hey Harold?," Mr. Franklin called from the cash register, "Ms. Pierce needs to make a return. Come and help her." _It's 5:30, time to go. _Harry turned towards the door, eager to make it outside to the fresh air.

"Harold!" _It's 5:30, time to go._ Ignoring the calls of his boss, he grabbed his coat and left.

Harry's favorite restaurant was just down the street, and he made it there without paying much attention. It was a tiny pub that was never crowded and always quiet. It was the only place he could be where his thoughts were more than just fragments and his ears weren't bleeding from the city noise. A rickety sign hung over the door, and in peeling blue letters read: **Potter's Pub.**

A blast of air conditioning whooshed past him as the door shut behind him.

"Good evening Mr. Harold," a friendly faced bartender nodded at him, "Your usual table?"

Harry merely nodded, shedding his coat while heading towards his usual seat in the corner. _He seems to be a nice man. He knows my name. Why don't I know his?_

"Anything to drink Mr. Harold?" The bartender called, wiping a glass clean. As he spoke, a waitress walked out from the kitchen, a tray under her arm.

"Ronald," she snapped before furiously blushing, "That's _my _job." _Ronald. So, that is his name. Maybe I can say goodbye to him before I leave._

The waitress made her way to his table, the blush soon replaced by a sly smile.

"So, would you like anything to drink?" She was very pretty, standing just short of 5' 2" with her long gingery hair swept into a pony tail. Her large brown eyes were warm and full of laugher with light purplish bruises under each of them, as if she hadn't had enough sleep in a long time.

"No," Harry finally answered, testing the word on his tongue. It had been a long time since he had spoken without it aching, "Just…coffee please." He even tried a small smile back. She turned around back to the kitchen without even writing down the order. Sweeping his dark hair out of his eyes, he wondered why he hadn't noticed her before. Come to think of it, she had been there as long as he could remember.

_I've seen her before. I just know it. I should ask. Would that be wrong? I don't even know her name. She probably doesn't know mine. I'm not going to talk to her anymore. But I want to. I'm going to puke. _

The waitress returned holding a paper cup of coffee. _The kind you ask for when you're not staying. _

"Anything else sir?" She clutched the bill in her hand, her smile just a tad sadder, just a bit more forced.

"I didn't ask for…What do you call this?" Harry motioned his hand to the paper cup.

"To Go, sir," she blushed again. He liked seeing the color in her cheeks.

"How did you know that this is what I wanted?"

"You order the same thing every day." _Do I?_

"Oh…well…that's fine then," The red head turned to go but Harry found himself opening his mouth again. _What the hell am I doing?_ "Excuse me…Miss?"

She turned around slowly, her face confused, "Yes?"

"What's your name?"

"Oh. It's Angel."

"Nice to meet you Angel. I'm-"

"Harry. Harry Harold. Yeah, I know," blushing once more she sped off to the safety of the kitchen doors. Pulling out a few notes from his pocket, he paid the bartender. _Wait. Before you leave. _

"Have a good one…" _Blast. What was his name?_

"It's Ron," the bartender cracked another smile, "And you too."

***Ok. I know this one was kind of short but I promise the next one will be longer. xoxoxoxoxo inkpaperlove***


	2. The Walk

***AN: thank you so much for your positive feedback! Harry's choppy thought pattern was actually getting on my nerves so I'm going to try and cut it down. And yes, it is the symptoms of his concussion and coma. I won't be able to write for a week(is) because I'm going to FLORIDA. But I PROMISE I will continue as soon as I'm back! xoxoxoxo* **

****Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters** **

_**Harry **_

The face staring back in the reflection was foggy and blurred considering the fact that he had taken a hot shower and wasn't wearing his contacts. Flipping the fan on, Harry splashed cool water on his face before sliding in his contacts. _I wonder if she wears contacts. _His fingers brushed over his early morning stubble before they ran over the thin jagged scar on his forehead, the only reminder of his brain surgery. _Did she see it as she stared?_ The nurse at the hospital said that he had a brain tumor, but when they took it out his long term memory had been erased and his short term had been damaged. _What was her name? _

Shrugging the thought away, he wrapped himself in a bath robe and descended back into his pointless existence. His apartment was small, only one bedroom, and blindingly clean. Twice a day, Harry would push the few pieces of furniture to the side so he could efficiently sanitize the carpet. It was a long task, but it kept his brain focused. The only stocked cabinet was full of spices Harry would never cook with, all stacked up and alphabetical order. He had three bookshelves full of books he would never read, alphabetized by author, then by book, then by volume. _Does she like to read?_

Try as he might, Mr. Harry Herald couldn't shake the memory of the waitress from his mind. The way she stood, leaning back slightly with her right heel before her left. The way she blushed, starting at the nose and creeping to her ears while sliding down her neck. How she said his name, softly with a hint of sadness. _Angel. _

_**Angel **_

The bite of the whiskey reminded her of the importance of why she was there in the first place, sitting outside an apartment complex in the sleepiest part of London. She quickly stored the bottle in her hand bag, in case she was to need it later. The extra salt on her French fries had caused her fingers to swell, forcing her to slide off her wedding ring and stow it next to the bottle of firewhiskey. Of course, she didn't have to do this so soon. He was happy and she was….alive. Her eyes wondered over to the window of a nearby café, revealing her tired looking face and loose pony tail in disarray. Pulling it out, she adjusted her hair around her face, cleverly concealing the stress induced veins that crisscrossed around her neck.

_I should go home. _

_It would be smarter if I went home. _

_I think I'm going to go home. _

_But I can't. _

Practicing her smile as she plucked up the courage, Angel walked inside the complex.

_**Harry **_

_Ajowan, Allspice, Amchoor…_ Harry was once again buried in his spice cabinet. _Anise, Asafoetida, Caraway seeds…_ A gentle knock on the door intruded his quiet state of mind. _Go away. What comes after Caraway..? _The knock persisted, growing increasingly louder and more frequent. _If it's another one of those…sales men. _Harry grumbled, pacing to the door. Swinging open the door to dismiss his intruder, he was quickly taken aback.

_Oh. _

_My._

_God._

_It's. _

_Her._

She looked different, a smile straining her face. _Why does she look so worried? _Her hair fell loose over her shoulders, gently waving and framing her face. _I wonder if it's soft. _Her large brown eyes were swollen and red, as if she had just stopped crying. _Who had caused her so much pain? _Looking out of place without her waitress uniform, she wore a low cut white blouse and dark denim jeans (cuffed once so as not to get in the way of her flip flop clad feet). There was something about her standing so close that sent tingles down his spine, he could even count the freckles on the bridge of her nose.

"Err…hi?" Harry suddenly felt self conscience of his bath robe.

"Hi…Harry," her forced smile was soon replaced by a natural grin, though her eyes still remained ever so sad, "I missed you today…at the pub I mean." _I forgot. And she still missed me. _

"Anyway," she breathed, her face slowly turning pink, "I was wondering if you wanted to go for a…walk." _Yes. Yes. Yes. _

"Um….I'm not wearing any clothes."

She giggled, a sound that was pleasant to the ears, "Go put some on." _I want to hear her laugh again. _

Harry scampered into his room, heart pounding. _What do I wear? _He settled for a nice striped shirt, dark jeans, and his only pair of brown boots. Harry hurriedly pressed his messy dark locks on to his head, took a deep breath, and walked back out to his new angel.

Harry remembered little of the walk besides her voice, and he didn't know he could love a sound so much. They neared her own apartment, an artsy building just a few miles away. Remembering only what he had seen on TV, he walked her to her door. She said something, but he couldn't hear her. All he saw her light pink lips, sitting there like an open invitation. Though he hadn't touched her once except to hand her the bill, his own lips craved hers. Cupping her chin in his hand (real smooth, also like on TV) he made contact with her.

_And _

_The_

_Fire_

_Was_

_Lit. _

Pure ecstasy. Her hands ran themselves through his hair while he pushed her body closer to his. The tip of her tongue begged for entrance and soon they were probing each others mouths. When they finally came up for air, it was only for seconds.

"Angel," he murmured into her hair. _It is soft. _

"Harry," she breathed, "Would you like to step inside my apartment?"

***TO BE CONTINUED. Hahahahaha so this might be a little longer than planned! Please tell me what you think!***


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